


Hidden Talent

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata Shouyou couldn't be sure, but the figure in his village hall looked very familiar.  But why would Nishinoya Yuu be signing up for local talent contest? Did it have anything to do with the miserable mood his senpai had been in recently?  Concerned, Shouyou approaches Sugawara, and together they hatch a plan ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Talent

**Author's Note:**

> I have shamelessly nicked a song from Yowamushi Pedal, and also a tune from Haikyuu!! (The View from the Summit).  
> This story was written for Nishinoya Yuu's birthday but not delivered in time. It was inspired by a fantastic piece of art that I saw on tumblr (http://the-third-way.tumblr.com/search/violin+au) and an anon who suggested I write a story about it.  
> Thank you maddox-rider for the amazing picture.

It was Shouyou who discovered his secret. Well, more accurately it was Natsu because she’d dragged her brother towards the hall near their home when she saw the bright coloured poster on its gate.

“Shouyou-chan, look, they have balloons and everything,” she squealed, her eyes wide. “Can we go inside?”

Shouyou scrutinised the poster, which declared that the annual talent contest would be held the next weekend.  He shrugged. His only talent was jumping, which he’d directed at volleyball rather than acrobatics, and he wasn’t interested in bad singers, dance troupes or comedians – not when he could be practising.  “I don’t think it’s started yet, Natsu.”

“But there are people inside,” she replied, and slipping her hand out of his, she skipped into the hall. “And that boy’s got ice cream!”

“He’s probably a contestant!” Shouyou shouted, but to no avail. Natsu, intent only on ice cream, had run into the hall.  Not hesitating, even when he saw the notice over the doorway saying that rehearsals were in progress, he ran after her.

And stopped.

Up ahead, standing by a desk where a bossy woman with narrow glasses was hectoring a small group, was a figure Shouyou thought he recognised. He couldn’t be sure, because the boy hadn’t turned around, and his hair looked different, but having played alongside him for two months, having seen him at training camp, and most days at practise, Shouyou was sure he wasn’t mistaken.

“I want ice cream.”

“Uh... in a minute, Natsu-chan. There’s someone I know up there. He’s my -” Breaking off, Shouyou furrowed his brow. He wanted to bound up to the boy, and normally he would have done, chattering away knowing that particular person never had a problem with his enthusiasm and wouldn’t yell, except in agreement.  But ... this past week things had been different. The atmosphere at volleyball practise had changed. Shouyou wasn’t sure why, he didn’t know what had happened, but something had been wrong.

And that something had swirled around the changing room in a thick black pelt of despair, settling in a cloak around the boy ahead.

Shouyou’s senpai.

Nishinoya Yuu.

“Are you going to say hello?”

“Uh...” Shouyou looked down at his sister. She’d placed her hand back in his, exerting a small amount of pressure, hinting again that she wanted ice cream, but she would understand if he wanted to speak to his friend. His instinct told him to say yes, to tell her he’d only be a minute but another voice piped up in his head, a voice that was all too familiar with its disparagement.

_“He’s annoyed with you, dumbass, because you never stop talking.”_

“It’s not him,” Shouyou told her. “Come on, I’ll buy you ice cream from the shop, okay?”

She laughed as if that had been her plan all along, which it probably was. The shop sold better ice cream than the vanilla they were scooping into broken cones and handing out to the contestants.

Shouyou glanced back as they left the hall, his eyes focused on the group round the table now dispersing, but Nishinoya – if it had been him – had gone.

***

“Sugawara-san?”

“Hmm?” Suga looked up from the bench he was sitting on and into the unusually worried face of one of his kouhais.

“Uh...” Hinata’s eyes flickered from side-to-side. He was biting his lip and fidgeting, too. Not that Hinata fidgeting was exactly unusual, but there was something more nervous about it, as if he needed to talk but wasn’t sure how. Suga frowned. If it were a volleyball matter, then Hinata would have no problem speaking up.

“Do you want to talk to me in private?” Suga murmured. “Let’s go back into the gym, shall we?”

They walked together, only Daichi noticing, but Suga flashed him a small smile, mouthing ‘I won’t be long”.  Daichi rolled his eyes, but both of them were used to Suga taking the kouhais to one side when they had a problem.

 It’s ... um ...” Hinata fidgeted again, now pleating his shirt between his finger and thumb. “It’s about Nishinoya-san.”

“Ah.”  Getting to his feet, Suga sighed. “Hinata-kun, Noya’s mood has nothing to do with you. He’s ... uh ... temperamental at times. And I’m sure once he’s calmed down he’ll be buying you popsicles to apologise.” He smiled and ruffled Hinata’s hair. “He likes you, so don’t listen to Kageyama. It’s not you he’s annoyed with.”

“Uh ...” Hinata’s brow creased. “I know that. This is ... um ... something else. I saw him last Saturday, that’s all. At least I think I did, and if it was him, then maybe he’s nervous, and it could be that he needs a friend, or his friends, and I didn’t want to say hello in case Kageyama was right, but now I think I should’ve told him I’d be there, and to wish him luck and –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Suga cried. “Slow down. What are you talking about? Where did you see Nishinoya?”

“Isawhimatthehall!”

“Hinata!  I can’t understand what you’re saying. Calm yourself. Take a deep breath,” Suga ordered, trying to contain his laughter, for Hinata’s face, now a deep pink, looked as if it were about to explode.

“Huuughhhhhh!” He inhaled deeply then exhaled equally loudly. His face less pink, Hinata turned his wide earnest stare on Suga and started again. “I saw him at the hall in my village. He’s ... um ...” Hinata grinned a little, then pulled his mouth straight as if he felt smiling was a bad idea. He took another breath, adding, “There’s a talent contest being held there and I saw him signing up.”

“Huh?” Suga took a step back. “Talent contest?” he asked incredulously. “You mean singing and things.”

Hinata nodded. “They have one every year in our village. It’s ... um ... fun.”

His mouth had wavered, caught Suga thought between laughter and concern.

“Fun in what way?” Suga asked suspiciously.

“Uh, well, no one’s very good. It’s okay if you’re a little kid, ‘cause no one’s mean to them, but –”

“If you’re older, then ... hmm, I get it. Well, I’m sure Noya-kun can handle himself.”

“Mmm, but it’s a shame,” Hinata said and sighed.

“Why is it a shame? Noya’s tough, and he does have a reasonable singing voice. ” Suga grinned, remembering Noya leading the way on the bus journeys to and from matches. Loud and irrepressible – more than a match for Tanaka – but at least Noya could hold a tune. Entering a contest might be a surprise, but with any luck, it would distract Noya from whatever was dragging him down.

Hinata started fidgeting again, hopping up and down on his feet, wringing his hands. “I ... um ... sorta wondered ... if ... um ...”

“What?”

“The winner is ... um ... decided by the audience. Everyone votes for their friends or family, but Nishinoya-senpai won’t know anyone there, will he?” He beamed at Suga and whispered, “The first prize is fifteen thousand yen.”

Suga whistled. “That would buy a lot of t-shirts and gari-gari kun,” he murmured, his brain working furiously.  “It doesn’t seem right that Noya-kun’s singing shouldn’t receive the attention it deserves.” Clapping Hinata on the back, he winked, and then strolled back to the changing room. “Leave it with me, Hinata-kun, and not a word to Nishinoya, okay?”

***

Daichi leaned across the bed and planted a kiss on Suga’s shoulder. “And we’re doing this why?” he muttered.

“For team morale,” Suga replied, and pushed him away.

“But my parents are away and we have the whole house to ourselves,” Daichi grumbled. He slid closer, running one fingertip down Suga’s spine, settling at the base where he splayed his hand, and started to press down with his palm. “He’s not expecting us, is he?”

“As far as I know, he has no idea we’re going,” Suga replied, rather too firmly for Daichi’s liking.

He slipped his fingers between Suga’s thighs, and nipped his neck. “Then, let’s stay here.”

“Dai,” Suga groaned, “don’t do this.”

“Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” whispered Daichi. “You don’t have to do a thing. Just lie back and let me ...”

“Again?”

Daichi smirked. “Why not?”

“Because,” Suga replied, turning over so he faced Daichi, “everyone’ll be waiting for us at the bus stop, so we can’t be the only no-shows, not when I’ve practically ordered everyone on pain of death to attend.”

“I still don’t understand why,” Daichi said, yawning. “Look, if Noya wanted us there. If he wanted our support, he’d have told us.  He’s not exactly shy, is he?”

“No, but he is stubborn.” Suga slid his legs out of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. “Remember when he left before. He wasn’t going to come back at all. It was only Hinata’s persistence that got him back in the gym.”

“You think he wants to leave?” Daichi got up, now worried about his star Libero. “You’re not serious?”

“There’s something wrong,” Suga replied, his eyes meeting Daichi’s with utter solemnity. “Hinata wanted us to watch, to give Noya our support. And I trust his instincts where people are concerned, don’t you?”

***

Kei wasn’t sure why he was at the bus stop in the rain when he didn’t have to be. He could have stood his ground when Sugawara-san told him about the contest. This was nothing to do with volleyball, after all, and they couldn’t honestly expect him to socialise. He could easily have said no, or pleaded an excuse. Sugawara and the Captain wouldn’t have been able to prove his grandma wasn’t ill. Or if he’d said he had to finish his homework, then they couldn’t have told him to forget it. That wouldn’t have been supportive at all.

Perhaps it was because Yamaguchi had so eagerly agreed. He’d been nodding faster than the idiot Hinata, although why he wanted to attend a ridiculous parochial talent contest to cheer on a boy whose idea of singing was to screech lyrics at the top of his voice, Kei had no idea.

Then again, now he thought about it, Yamaguchi had agreed after Kei had, so it couldn’t have been that. He frowned, trying to recall how the Vice Captain had snared him. He’d cornered Kei after Nishinoya had left, telling him straight about the concert, and how the team were required to go to lend support.

He’d cornered Kei, just after he’d spoken to the King.

Kei tutted. That’s what had happened. Kageyama had nodded, his face solemn, and stomped back to his bag. Then Sugawara, a smile on his face, had approached Kei and Yamaguchi.

He should have been firm and said no.

But the King of the Court had obviously agreed, and if that elite was going, then Kei would look mean spirited in comparison.

( _Plus_ , he thought, almost ashamed, _it was very hard to turn Sugawara-san down when he smiled like that._ )

However, Sugawara and Sawamura hadn’t turned up yet, which meant Kei didn’t have to hang around. He certainly wasn’t going to get on the bus to this godforsaken village to watch a pathetic talent contest if the Captain and Vice couldn’t be bothered either. Not even if Tanaka yelled at him or dragged him on the bus. Just to be sure, he stepped behind Asahi, keeping himself out of Tanaka’s sight line.

It was an oddly disparate group for a team. Kageyama stood alone, not even trying to make conversation. Tanaka was leaning against the lamppost, glaring up and down the street. Ennoshita and Narita were the only ones having an actual conversation, and whilst Yamaguchi had tried to initiate a chat, Kei had plugged in his headphones, pretended to listen to music, and had not made eye contact.

It was Azumane who stood out. Partly, Kei assumed, because he looked so much older, as if he shouldn’t be with these much younger kids, but also because he was silent, replying to Shimizu’s questions with the briefest of words. That was unusual. It wasn’t that he talked a lot, but the one thing Kei had noticed about Karasuno’s ace was how courteous he was. He’d never ignore Shimizu, and was on good terms with her, normally. But now his answers were abrupt – not rude exactly – but distant. It crossed Kei’s mind that maybe they were going out together and Asahi was finding it hard to act normally now things had changed.

Which could explain why Nishinoya, who entertained an embarrassingly large crush on their manager, had been in a filthy mood for the past two weeks, Kei mused.

“The bus will be here soon,” Tanaka fretted. He looked across to Azumane. “Should I phone them?”

Azumane didn’t look across, giving no impression that he’d actually heard.

“I texted a few minutes ago,” Shimizu put in when Azumane didn’t answer. “Suga-san hasn’t replied yet. But they’ll be here.”

Kei smirked a little as Tanaka gulped and nodded. Clearly having the manager address him in civil tones was too much for him to handle because he slumped down to the ground.

“Kinoshita-san’s not here, either,” Yamaguchi chipped in, using that voice of his where he was trying to be helpful.

“It’s his mother’s birthday,” Ennoshita replied. “Even Sugawara-san couldn’t fight that one.”

_Damn, I should have thought of that. I could be at home instead of going to this excuse for entertainment._

“I can see the bus,” called Narita. “What shall we do?”

Surreptitiously, Kei glanced up the road, watching as the headlights of the bus chugged into view. If the Captain and Sugawara didn’t turn up, he’d leave. He glanced at Yamaguchi who was shuffling his feet, staring at everyone whilst he waited for a decision.

“Hinata will be waiting for us at the bus stop,” Kageyama said abruptly as if that decided it.

Kei opened his mouth to protest. (Not that he’d make an issue of it, but he was merely going to point out that if the Sawamura and Sugawara had changed their minds, then perhaps there was good reason.) But before he could utter a word, the team were startled by two loud shouts and the pounding of feet along the pavement.

“Sorry, we’re late!” screamed Sugawara. “Have we missed the bus?”

“No,” Shimizu replied, and arched an eyebrow. “You left it late, though. We _were_ about to go without you.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Sawamura said neutrally, meeting her gaze.

Kei blinked away his disappointment that he’d now have to attend, instead focusing his attention on the latecomers. Flushed from the run, Sugawara-san’s hair was sticking up so much he resembled Hinata. He laughed sheepishly as he greeted them all personally, making his way towards them all.  The Captain, having shorter hair, looked respectable, except for the untucked shirt, and the glimmer of a grin he was trying to hide when he wasn’t looking at his Vice Captain.

 “Tsukishima-kun,” cried Sugawara, walking over to him and slapping him on the back. “I’m pleased you made it. This is going to be a lot of fun, you know?”

“Mmm.” Kei said nothing else, but burrowed himself into his jacket. His senpais had been late. Late _together_. He frowned, not wanting to think about that, and concentrated on the irritation he felt that he’d have to attend the bloody concert.

***

Ryuu was worried. He tried not to show it, but for the past fortnight, his friend’s behaviour had concerned him. He was close to Yuu. Well, by close, he meant they hung out together. Yuu would come over and they’d stick a DVD into the player. Ryuu’s sister would bring in a takeaway, and the three of them would sit down and watch it. They didn’t talk much, ‘cept about volleyball or girls, but that was it. Ryuu was happy with that. He didn’t want to talk to Yuu about serious crap. There was no need, ‘cause despite Saeko naggin’ at him, he was fine as he was.

‘Cept maybe Yuu woulda liked to talk, ‘cause just recently he’d clammed up and that had bothered Ryuu. He picked at a hangnail, worrying at it with his teeth until the skin split and he could taste blood. He couldn’t rid himself of the feelin’ that things were about to go wrong. Again. And Ryuu wasn’t sure he could handle that.

It hadn’t been that long since the team had fallen apart, and for all his bluster, he was terrified it would break again. Karasuno finally had a team that could challenge all the other fuckers, and Ryuu wasn’t about to let that go. He’d thought Yuu felt the same way, that he wanted to keep playing, to keep winning – not just for glory but for the hell of it. For the feeling that when he spiked a ball, or made a great receive, or just stepped onto the court, that they were alive.

But recently, Yuu had gone cold on him. There’d been no DVD nights, no takeaways with Saeko cracking embarrassing jokes, no stupid texts at three in the morning. There’d been nothing.

And Ryuu missed that.

He trudged into the hall at the back of the group. Hinata was leading the way, chattering with excitement to Suga and Daichi-san. Kageyama walked next to him, trying not to look at all interested, but Ryuu could tell he was happy to be here. It was like he hadn’t expected to be included (because face it, Kageyama wasn’t on anyone’s list when planning a fun night out) and was covering up his gratitude.

***

Tobio shuffled along the row, following Hinata to their seats. The team had decided to sit fairly near the back. He wasn’t sure why, but Sugawara-san had said something about not wanting to put Nishinoya off. Then Ennoshita-san had drawled something about it being close to the toilets if it got too bad.  Tobio had frowned at that, not because the comment annoyed him, but because he didn’t know what Ennoshita had meant. Being close to the toilets was something Hinata needed before a match, but surely he wasn’t going to pee, poop or puke before this, was he?  It wasn’t like he was the one going on stage.

Why anyone would want to go on stage, Tobio didn’t know. He’d always hated school plays and being made to wear ridiculous costumes. And having to look happy during a play. Ughh, he’d cringed inside when the teacher exhorted him to smile.

“Why would he do this?”he muttered.

“Enter a talent contest?” Sugawara asked.

Tobio nodded, pleased he wasn’t blushing because he hadn’t meant to voice his question.

“Mmm, I was surprised when Hinata told me,” Sugawara replied. “ But you’ve seen Noya on court, he’s a natural performer.”

“That’s different,” Tobio replied. “The court is for volleyball. It’s a match.”

“There are still people watching you, Kageyama-kun,” Sugawara said, winking slightly.

Sawamura-san winced and nudged the Vice-Captain. “Don’t tell him that, Suga. Kageyama might get stage fright.”

Stage fright?  What an odd concept. And people watching him on court. Yes, that was obvious, but Tobio never took in the spectators. He was far too focused on the game, his teammates and the opposition to care about an audience.

“I know I shouldn’t laugh,” Tobio heard Sawamura mutter to Sugawara, “but Kageyama looks as if he’s about to visit the dentist. How did you get him to agree to this?”

“Uh, not sure,” Sugawara muttered back. “I hadn’t even got halfway through my ‘Nishinoya is our backbone’ speech before he’d said yes.”

 _Because he_ is _our backbone,_ Tobio thought irritably. _Why does everyone assume I wouldn’t know that._

That and Hinata seemed to think it was important, and as much as Tobio hated to admit it, the annoying dumbass was usually on the money about people.

He cast his eyes down to the floor in case his senpais caught the irritation on his face, and tried to pull his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression. Then he frowned. Sugawara was wearing odd socks, which for some reason disconcerted Tobio.  Not _that_ odd. They weren’t red and blue. But one was black and one was dark grey with a red stripe across the top. And Sugawara-san was usually so well dressed. Not like the captain, who frequently ... uh!

_Why is Captain-san wearing odd socks, too?_

“Kageyama, are you okay?”

He scowled. “Course I am, dumbass. When does this thing start?”

“Five minutes,” Hinata replied, squirming around on his chair.

“And do you need the bathroom before it starts?” Tobio demanded. Then he blinked because that sounded almost like he was bothered. “It will be annoying if you have to get up in the middle. You might miss Nishinoya-san, which is the only reason we’re all here.”

Hinata grinned at him and giggled. “It’s not volleyball. There’s nothing here to scare me.”

“Good.”  Reaching into his bag, Tobio pulled out a juice carton. He stabbed the straw into it and took a sip. Beside him, Hinata wriggled again, restless for the show to start, and for the hundredth time, Tobio wondered why he was here and why he’d ended up sitting next to an idiot who couldn’t keep still.

He should have hung back and not followed Hinata as soon as they got off the bus. As long as he’d avoided Tsukishima, he would have been happy sitting next to anyone else. Although Tanaka was probably going to be embarrassingly loud when it started. Tobio scanned the row. Azumane-san and Shimizu-san were on the end. There was a space next to them, so maybe he could, if Hinata got really annoying, move next to them. He didn’t think they’d mind. Now he thought about it, he wasn’t sure they’d notice. Their manager was good at keeping her distance, and studying Azumane, Tobio was struck by how pale he looked. Pale and a bit green. He raised his eyebrows, pleased finally that he’d solved the mystery of sitting in the row nearest the toilets. Their ace was ill. Nervous even though he wasn’t going on stage.

***

The house lights dimmed. An announcement was made. The audience sat forwards, ready to enjoy the ritual humiliation of the contestants.

“It’s okay, Hinata-kun,” whispered Suga, placing his hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “Your senpai will be fine.”

 

“Hime, Hime, suki suki daisuki!”

“Nooo, not again,” groaned Daichi. “What the hell is this song? And why is everyone singing it?”

Suga punched his arm. “It’s not everyone. This is only the ... uh ... fourth time we’ve heard it.”

“It’s making my ears bleed!” protested Daichi as the rather obnoxiously cute ten-year old girl started prancing around on stage. “And she’s annoying. Look, she can’t even sing, but everyone’s cheering her. Hinata-kun, what’s so special about her?”

“Uh...” Hinata cleared his throat. “Hayashi Emina-kun’s mom is the one who runs the contest. And the family own the store over the road.”

“So voting against her’s like voting against the Triads, yeah,” muttered Suga, holding his hand over his mouth to stop a giggle emerging.

“Why does she have to flick her hair all the time?” demanded Daichi. “Can’t she tie it up or something?” He screwed up his eyes and tilted his head to one side. “Gotta say, from this angle she reminds me of Oikawa. She’ll start pouting next.”

“Behave! You can’t expect the team to keep straight faces if the captain’s cracking up.” Suga said, now clutching his ribs in an attempt to stop laughing.  “Oh, Gods, Hinata-kun. When you said ‘fun’, you really under exaggerated.”

“Is that bad?”

Suga bit his lip as the girl performed cartwheels across the stage and continued to sing. Cartwheels where her legs weren’t straight and she resembled a turtle.  “No,” he wept. “It’s brilliant. We must do this every year.”

A chair along the row scraped across the floor. They looked sideways, amused and horrified that Tanaka had slid to the ground, no longer capable of holding in his laughter. Beside him, Ennoshita was stuffing his fist in his mouth, Narita’s shoulders were wobbling, whilst Yamaguchi stared at the stage in abject horror. Only Tsukishima was expressionless, but that wasn’t a surprise.

Suga glanced further up the row to catch Asahi’s eye, but he was staring straight ahead, his face blank.

***

Yuu stood in the wings waiting to go on. To stop himself howling with laughter as the girl on stage continued her song-and-cartwheel act, he decided to curse himself for entering this stupid contest in the first place.

It had been an impulse, which like all impulses, seemed like a good idea at the time, but could come back and bite his ass.

Last week he’d run from practise, ignoring Ryuu’s offer of pizza and a movie. He’d run despite knowing that he needed to stay, that he needed to face his problem. But it was hard to confront when there was a blockade before you, when the whispering cicada, which had led you, down that path, had turned out to be a scorpion.

The village he’d found himself in sounded familiar, but he had no idea why. He hadn’t been here before, he was sure he’d have remembered, so it was more likely that he’d passed through it with his parents when they were visiting relatives, or something. Still, it was odd how the name nagged at him.

Nag was the wrong word. It was more like the name was urging him on. Maybe that was why, on seeing the poster, he’d acted so impulsively and signed up for the contest.  He smiled to himself. The audience, he realised, were kind to the young kids – even the truly dreadful like the Cartwheel Girl - but mean to anyone else. As an outsider, he expected jeers as soon as he stepped on stage. But he could take that. Nishinoya Yuu wasn’t scared of anyone and this was one wall he could face down, even if it was a wall of strangers.

 _Maybe I shoulda told Ryuu and some of the guys,_ he thought regretfully. _Saeko-Neesan mighta driven them over._

“Ah, isn’t she adorable? Give a big round of applause for Hayashi Emina-chan, and her wonderfully original song and dance routine,” called the compère.

Yuu snickered to himself as Emina  did a final cartwheel, her legs bent and landing double footed with all the grace of an elephant, and then he took a breath. He straightened his tie, pulled on the lapels of the stiff jacket he only ever wore when his parents forced him, and stepped onto the stage.

“And what is your name, dear?” asked the compère, sounding indulgent. “And where are you from?”

Yuu fixed him with a look. The compère clearly assumed he was talking to a middle-schooler. Briefly he wondered whether he should play along, affecting a cutesy accent. It would give him an easier ride, after all. But wasn’t the point of stepping out of your comfort zone, that it should be uncomfortable?

“I’m Nishinoya Yuu from the Miyagi Prefecture,” he declared. Then he faced the audience. “I go to Karasuno High.”

There was an indrawn breath, followed by a small yelp. Surprised, because surely it wasn’t such a big deal, Yuu focussed his attention on a small girl in the second row who was sitting between her parents. In the dark light of the hall, he couldn’t make out her features, but she had red hair... and she couldn’t stop squirming on her chair.

 _That’s odd. She reminds me of ..._ He scanned the row, then shook his head. No, Shouyou wasn’t there. It must be a coincidence. There must be a lot of red haired kids.

“So what are you planning to sing for us?”

“Huh?” Yuu looked sideways and flashed the compère a smile. “I’m not singing,” he said clearly, and with a flourish brought out his hand from behind his back. “I’m playing.”

 

“A violin?” 

“Since when?”

“Tanaka, did you know about this,” hissed Ennoshita.

“No, no, I swear,” Tanaka whispered, his face now clear of any laughter. “Uh ... this is bad, ain’t it?”

Tsukishima removed his headphones, a minutely small smile tweaking his lips. “Even assuming he’s had a few lessons, violinists tend to sound like yowling cats. In this hall, with these acoustics ...” He sighed, but didn’t sound the least bit downhearted, quite the reverse, Suga thought. “With these acoustics, Nishinoya-san’s going to sound like he’s strangling the cat on stage.”

“I need a moment to tune up,” Nishinoya said, and grinned widely at the audience. “You might know this one.”

He placed the bow on the strings. The Karasuno team held their breath, waiting for the collective wince from the audience. The refrain was familiar, a warm up, he’d said, but it was a warm-up that left the audience both gasping and groaning.

“Hime, hime, suki suki daisuki,” he sang as he played. The notes brief, his voice lyrical.

“Noya, nooooo!” cried Daichi, much louder than he’d intended. Suga punched him in the ribs, but it was too late. Nishinoya abruptly finished the warm-up and stared straight at their row.  The wide smile flickered  uncertainly, and then he lifted his hand in mock-salute.

“It appears I ... uh ... have some friends here tonight. So, to my Karasuno teammates, I dedicate this to you.”

“And what tune are you going to play us, dearie?” called out the pianist. “Only you haven’t left me anything to accompany you with.”

“Uh, that’s okay, I don’t need accompaniment.”

“That’s bad,” Tsukishima told them all. “A pianist could have made him sound a whole lot better.”

“Hey, I liked his first tune!” Tanaka muttered. “Didn’t sound at all bad to me. ‘Cept it was that god-awful song.”

“Tanaka’s right,” Shimizu put in hurriedly. “Maybe Nishinoya-kun can actually play.”

“Well,” Suga stage whispered. “Now he’s seen us, we’ll all have to stay, okay? He’s going to need our support if there’s any chance of him winning this thing. Agreed?”

Nine heads nodded their agreement. Nine members of the audience honouring a pact to support their teammate no matter how badly he did. Suga glowered down the row, then, snatching up a flyer that had been left on the seat, he scrunched it up and threw it straight at Asahi.

“Oi, Ace! Did you hear me? Noya needs our support, got that! So don’t go getting embarrassed. It’s not you up there.”

***

Asahi turned his face towards Suga, not really hearing what he’d said, only understanding that somehow he was getting shouted at again. He nodded, then directed his attention back to the stage.

 _He looks so fragile up there_ , he thought, then shook his head. Yuu was about as fragile as Datekou’s iron wall. He was the weak one.

“This piece is called View from the Summit,” Yuu was saying. He smiled again, but it wasn’t his wide beam of earlier, but something more rueful. “It’s not something I get to see much, but I think my friends, one in particular, will understand.”

Asahi gasped. Shimizu squeezed his arm, but he barely noticed, so intent was he on the small figure commanding the stage as fiercely as he commanded every court he stepped on to.

And then Nishinoya started to play, his bow hand weaving the most intricate patterns on the strings of his violin. Asahi watched, enthralled, as Yuu twisted and turned, using not just his arms, but his body, throwing his whole being into his rendition of the music.

It was a tune Asahi knew only too well. A melody that both haunted and delighted him. Music that reached deep inside and described every moment of his existence on court.

It had been a few months ago that he’d first heard it. Downloading it onto his iPod,  he’d been grateful that his earphones afforded him some privacy. Mocked for his unassuming and timid personality, Asahi never shared his taste in music, fearing more scorn would ruin his appreciation.

But Nishinoya knew. They had the same iPod and in similar plain black cases, and so it was only a matter of time before they got mixed up. Asahi had switched it on, only to reel at the rap beats bursting his eardrums. In horror, he’d swivelled around, ripping out the earphones to make the exchange before it was too late.

But it had been too late. Nishinoya had stopped what he was doing, sat back on the bench, and listened – really listened – to the melodies filling his ears.

“What’s this?” he murmured, his face creasing into the hugest of smiles.

“It’s nothing,” mumbled Asahi. “Mistake. I was ... uh ... downloading lots of stuff and that must have got mixed in with the-”

Nishinoya had stared incredulously. “You don’t even know what I’m listening to.”

He’d blushed, fully intending to walk away after requesting the return of his iPod, but instead he’d sat down next to Noya. “It helps calm me on the way to matches,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Asahi-san, you don’t have to explain. Or be embarrassed,” Nishinoya had muttered, squeezing his arm. “This music’s beautiful. And ... it’s so you.”

“Huh?”

“Like...” He’d leant closer. “It starts off soft and harmonious, and then there’s this build up. It gets faster and powerful. So powerful. Like a ball being spiked in play by the ace.”

And then he’d screwed his eyes tight shut and had taken a deeper breath. “It’s amazing, Asahi-san. It’s fluid and graceful, yet still there’s so much power. It’s _you_.”

Asahi had tried to pull away. The boy next to him was only sixteen. He was seventeen and whatever he thought he felt, whatever strange emotions touched at his soul whenever this boy strutted onto court, they were wrong.

So. Very. Wrong. But when Nishinoya opened his wide amber eyes and stared up at Asahi,  the impulse to tilt his head downwards, to experience the pressure of lips on lips overwhelmed him. With the minutest of groans, he’d touched his mouth to the younger boy’s, felt the pressure returned, then drew back horrified at what he’d done.

“What am I doing? What must you think? Gods I’m so sorry. Nishinoya-kun, I-I-I-can’t explain. I’m-”

“Asahi,” Nishinoya had whispered, and tried to draw him back. “It’s okay.”

“No.”He’d choked on the word as he thrust Nishinoya away from him. “It’s very far from okay.”

***

“You guys coulda given me some warning!” Yuu complained.

With the competition over, they were all in the hall, drinking juices and sharing sweets.

“You coulda told us about the competition,” Ryuu hit back. “Yachi-kun wanted to organise a whole cheer squad, but it was too late. If you’d had more friends in the audience, you mighta won.”

“What and make Little Miss Magic Cartwheel cry?” Yuu joked. “Nah, I couldn’t so that. Besides second place will keep us in gari-gari kun for a while, eh, Shouyou?”

Hinata’s eyes were wide with awe. “You were amazing, Nishinoya-senpai.”

“Nah, I was okay,” Yuu replied. He grinned at them all, keeping the smile as wide as possible because that way they’d think he was happy.

“How long have you been playing?” Tsukishima asked, clearly still in shock.

“Uh, a couple of weeks,” Yuu deadpanned, then laughed at Tsukishima’s expression. “I started when I was about seven, I guess. Mom had this idea it would help me study, too. But it didn’t. The trouble was the god-awful scales they made me practise, and the pieces were dull. So I used to improvise.”

“You’re good,” Shimizu murmured, sounding surprised. “You’re really very good. And that tune was ...” She pondered a little. “It was haunting.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it,” Yuu muttered, blushing at her praise.  Then he sighed. “Hey, the bus is due in fifteen minutes. I’m going backstage to pick up my stuff. I’ll meet you there, shall I?”

“Sure,” said Suga and Daichi in unison. They clapped him on the back, congratulating him again, and he thanked them both for getting the team together.

But it wasn’t _their_ congratulations or admiration he wanted. Yeah, it felt good having everyone say great things about him, but something was lacking. Something in the form of a one hundred and eighty- four centimetre Wing Spiker, who hadn’t bothered to wait around with the others.

 _I played that for you, Asahi-san,_ he thought bitterly. Because the gods knew it hadn’t been his intended choice. If he’d played something better known, then maybe he could have won over the audience, and snatched first prize

Still second place was good. And his friends – his real friends – the ones that mattered – that didn’t run away when things got rough or took a different turn - they’d stayed. Even Shouyou, and Yuu knew he’d been a git to him recently, snapping and snarling at the mildest of questions.

In the changing room, he packed up the violin and pulled on a jacket. He’d meant to change back into his normal clothes, but that could wait. He’d sit in silence for a while, then face the others with a smile on his face as they journeyed home.

“Noya?” 

The voice, though hesitant, stopped his breath.

“I thought you’d gone.” He didn’t turn around.

“I was waiting. I ... couldn’t face you, not with everyone there. It was too much.”

“Sounds about right. Everything’s too much for you, ain’t it, glass-heart.”.

He heard Asahi’s intake of breath and despite not looking, Yuu knew he was screwing up his face and courage to speak. He waited, hardly daring to move.

“You were brilliant,” Asahi said at last. “I had no idea you played the violin.”

“Why would you? Ryuu doesn’t know and he’s my friend,” he spat, sure now that Asahi would leave him in peace.

But he didn’t. Instead there was tentative footstep, and then a hand plucking at his sleeve. “Noya, can we talk?”

“What about? I’m not interested in another endless stream of apologies.”

“Then I won’t apologise,” replied Asahi, sounding unusually firm. “I’m not going to again.”

“Because I won’t listen,” Yuu mocked as he turned around. “That’s _so_ brave of you, Azumane-san.”

“No,” Asahi muttered. “We’ve done nothing wrong, have we?”

“We’ve not really done anything,” Yuu retorted. “One kiss before you turned tail and ran away. One kiss, Azumane. Wow, was it really that big a deal to you?”

Watching Asahi flinch, Yuu felt wretched, but he couldn’t take another rejection, and stopping the move before it was made was the best defence against that.

“I-I-It was m-my first kiss,” Asahi stuttered, and blushed furiously. “F-First with anyone. Do you understand? And I never thought - I never quite understood that it would - that it would be like that. With you. I’d always thought I’d find a girl somewhere. Someone who didn’t take one look and run, or complain that I was weak, or ...” Reaching out, his fingers traced the side of Yuu’s face where the violin had rested.  “A girl who’d make me feel things the way volleyball does, or music, or ... or ... the way you do, Noya-kun.”

And Yuu, who was always so ready with a response, remained silent, his throat constricting under Asahi’s gentle caress.

“We have a bus to catch,” he croaked.

“We need to talk.”

Yuu smiled. He smiled at the glimmering hope before him, at the swoop of emotions swirling inside where for the past two weeks he’d felt hollow. Asahi was here, not hiding from him, not avoiding his gaze, or refusing to speak. He wanted to talk, and that was a step, however tiny, in the right direction.

“Yeah, we do. And we will. But at the moment, that’s impossible because the Karasuno team’s waiting for us.” Standing on tiptoes, he brushed Asahi’s lips with his own, prepared to stop as soon as the goofball in front of him felt uncomfortable.

But Asahi didn’t pull away. Instead he hesitantly placed his hands around Yuu’s waist, and tugged him closer. His lips were soft, his small goatee beard tickled Yuu’s chin, and his hair flopped comically around his face. But the kiss became more intense, more real than anything Yuu had ever imagined.

This was music; this was volleyball. A melody. A rhythm. The perfect receive, the perfect spike, the best play imaginable.  The Libero guarding his Ace as he powered through an iron wall of his own making.

He’d always known that Asahi ran when he felt scared. But, Yuu realised as a sense of calm waved through him, he always came back, stronger than before.

 

 


End file.
